


count the ghosts passing by (turn to stars in your eyes)

by BelovedOfTheFae



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Healing, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-09 18:36:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11110470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelovedOfTheFae/pseuds/BelovedOfTheFae
Summary: A series of vignettes in which Monty and Harper heal, one touch at a time.Set after 4x13.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Also in which the author heals after being utterly destroyed by the Season 4 finale; Harper x Monty is good for the soul.

It isn’t until the third day back on the Ark, after all the most urgent tasks for their survival have been completed, that Harper the soldier gives way to Harper the human.

She lets herself cry.

She cries for Bellamy and Raven, who spend five- six? - far too many hours a day standing at the window, silent.

She cries for Jasper, whose shadow she still sees everywhere but nowhere more than in the lines and tearstains on Monty’s beautiful face.

She cries for the three hundred-odd Arkadians left outside the bunker. She cries for Echo to her surprise, though she’d learned long ago that loss has no boundaries. She even cries for Emori- and Murphy too, and their quest for belonging.

She cries for Clarke, who gave of herself until there was nothing left but her very own life, and in the end she gave that too so that they could live.

She cries for Monty, for the boy- the man she loved, who carried on through the deaths of his mother and his best friend with the patience of a saint and the compassion of a thousand beating hearts.

The man who had placed his heart in her hand that damned final day in Arkadia as she told her callous lie and watched him shatter.

She does not deserve him, she knows.

And so she cries, but not for herself.

 

That is how he finds her on her makeshift bed in the abandoned far room she had taken, away from everyone.

She does not deserve him, Harper reminds herself- but whatever resolve builds up in those moments vanishes when her watery eyes find his.

“Monty,” she whispers.

He says nothing, sitting down to hold her as he buries his head in her shoulder and lets himself go, sobbing softly.

The rambling apologies that bounce restlessly in her mind come to a complete halt the moment his lips crash into hers.

And though her little voice still reminds her of her unworthiness, for all her flaws Harper is nothing if not strong when she has to be.

After all, she has the next five years to apologize, to make things right or as close as possible; right now he needs comfort, not some choked-out sorries and incoherent babbling.

He needs her.

She kisses back, fiercely, steeling herself and meeting his gaze reassuringly as she savors the sensation of his strong, warm hands against her sides, lifting her shirt slowly.

“Are you okay with this?” he breathes. “We can stop if you’re not-”

She does not speak, only grinding her core against his tented hardness and drawing a shuddering gasp. She takes her time undressing him, running her hands lovingly over every inch of his lithe body until there is nothing left between their bare forms.

He cries out as she slowly sheaths herself on him until she is sitting upright on his lap, and then they move, hips crashing into each other and mouths locked in open passion.

They last mere minutes before she feels him swell slightly and speed up, moaning in tandem as the sensation of his essence flooding into her sends her blindingly over the edge too.

“I love you, Harper McIntyre,” he whispers into her skin.

“I love you, Monty Green,” she says before the dam of her self-control breaks and she cries, holding him until he falls asleep beside her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided after three years of following this show to finally write a fanfic.
> 
> Why Marper, you might ask? (That's Monty/Harper, for those of you who don't speak shipper-nese).
> 
> Because there's not enough fics about them.
> 
> Because this fandom deserves relationships that defy stereotypes about race and gender roles, healthy relationships that we can cheer for and champion.
> 
> Because this highly underrated romance between two damaged-but-not-broken souls is so pure and raw and beautiful and deserves more exploration.
> 
> Because goddamnit, they're my new favorites and if JRoth doesn't do them justice I will personally mail him an ornery garden skunk.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Monty learns that burdens are lighter borne on the shoulders of two.

The nightmares come and go, but Monty quickly concludes that they are not, in fact, random.

He first realizes this when the initial harvest from the algae farm inexplicably falls under projected yield by over thirty percent- nearly five percent too low to safely sustain seven young men and women on minimum calorie expenditure.

It does not take Clarke to foresee another bunker dilemma.

The thought is strangely cathartic, Monty realizes as he throws himself into his work. He had the mind of an engineer, his father had always said- able to compartmentalize, postpone problems unquantifiable to focus on the tangible ones at hand.

He sleeps under five hours a night until three days later, when he and Raven finally implement their improved compressed-air agitation system that guaranteed at the very least a viable yield for seven.  
Miraculously, he does not dream.

For the next two weeks, Monty does not stop finding new tasks to undertake, no matter how small or trivial.

He does not see Jasper and the others wasting away.

He does not hear Harper’s screams as Cage and Tsing stand over her.

He does not relive killing his mother twice, once at gunpoint and once by the stroke of a single key.

 

If the others notice what he’s doing, they don’t point it out. Between recuperating, mourning, and solving the assorted issues that arise with turning a defunct station into a long-term residence, Monty figures that everyone’s too busy or too guarded to look closely.

Not Harper, who sees right through him with that emotional acuity of hers; Monty supposes that it is just one more checkbox in the long list of reasons why he loves her. 

She confronts him the first night the dreams come back, when he snaps awake a gasp and tumbles straight out of the bed too small for two right onto the floor with a thud loud enough to wake her.

“Nightmares?” she asks.

“Yeah, but I’m fine,” he grunts, mustering a weak smile. “Just got reminded why we usually sleep in our own beds. Sorry I woke you, should I leave?”

“Monty.”

The look on her face stops him, his shirt forgotten in his hand. It is a look he knows all too well, blunt and incisive and unwilling to take a deflection in place of an answer. 

“I still get them too, pretty often actually,” she volunteers in a small voice.

Monty feels warmth bloom in his chest as he realizes again how lucky he is to see her like this, raw and vulnerable. It is hard for her to be vulnerable, he knows; that is how she has survived all this time.

He sits next to her, his shirt forgotten on the floor as he caresses her hand in his own.

“What are yours about?”

Harper chuckles mirthlessly. “Nice try, but you’re going first.”

He smiles a bit, sighing as he lies down beside her.

“Everyone we’ve lost,” he says simply. “Mostly my mom, our friends, Jasper.”

“Jasper,” she agrees, rubbing his thumb. “I see his face more often than I see yours nowadays.”

Monty laughs softly at that. “You noticed?”

“That you throw yourself into your work and save the self-pity and suffering for later?” Harper snorts.

“How did you-”

“I guess we have in common, guards and engineers,” she says lightly, though her face tells otherwise. “You have to prioritize to survive.”

“Sometimes I see you,” he blurts before he can talk himself out of it.

“Back at Arkadia?” she breathes, crestfallen. “I’m so sorry, Monty, I was trying to protect you.”

“I know,” he reassures her. “And no, recently it’s been Mount Weather. You’d lost so much blood, I think I’d be having nightmares about that day even if you and I hadn’t, you know…”

Harper turns her head to face him. “I see you in mine too- the ravine where Echo had you and Bellamy. Except in my dreams, the arrows fire.”

Monty only nods, taking a deep breath before telling her another, and they continue taking turns with their fears until they fall asleep, hand in hand.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which 5x08 destroys the author and everyone else's heart.

_We were happy once._

She cannot help but remember the ring.

Remembers pots and aprons and lovely smiles that made even algal slush sweet.

She even remembers endless tears and words for ghosts gone by and love made under endless starry nights, borne lighter on the hearts of two.

 

* * *

 

_We’ll get back there. I promise._

He knows her too well.

She is tough, his Harper, a soldier and protector to the bone. For the thousandth time he pictures her a mother-

He forces the dangerous wild thoughts away.

There is pain behind her eyes, not of disbelief but of peaceful moments fleeting amidst a cycle of duty and violence.

Only change can heal this wound- change and time and truth.

 

* * *

 

_I don’t want to be a killer anymore._

She wants to tell him he never did; she also knows better than to try.

She knows he sees himself with Clarke and Bellamy in Mount Weather, imagines his own hand on that lever with theirs.

She even knows that at the end of the proverbial dominoes are Maya and Jasper, and that the one who tips the first in his wretched dreams is a fallen angel wearing the face of Monty Green.

 

* * *

 

_Let’s show them how to live._

You already do, he thinks.

Every single day.

And so he answers.

* * *

 

_Will you still love me when I’m just a farmer?_


End file.
